Free All the Pretty Hearses by Mary Daheim

couldn’t conceal her surprise. “Dinner? I don’t serve dinner for our guests.” She gestured toward the living room. “This is the social hour. You know—time for visitors to get together and compare impressions of the city.”
    Reggie’s pinched face looked puzzled. “But the Paines are coming for dinner tomorrow, are they not?”
    “Yes,” Judith replied, wincing as Mayo scratched at the powder room door just off the entry hall. “But that’s part of the school auction package.”
    “Oh.” Reggie seemed crestfallen, stroking his thin mustache with long, delicate fingers. “We naturally assumed . . .” He looked at his wife. “What did we assume, darling?”
    Alicia looked discomfited. “There must be some misunderstanding. Martha Morelli told me you were serving dinner. Or was it Norma who mentioned that?” Before Judith could respond, she waved a hand. “That’s unimportant. I took it for granted that we’d dine here. It’s quite impossible to cook when one’s teeth are chattering. I’m sure that we could just have some of what you and Jack are eating tonight.”
    “Joe,” Judith stated firmly. “Joe Flynn. Actually, Joe isn’t here this evening. He’s in ja—jaywalking school. As a retired policeman, he signed up to teach people to cross streets only in crosswalks. Both marked and unmarked. You’ve probably noticed how so many people on top of the hill just pop out from between parked cars, risking life and limb. Very dangerous.”
    “Done it myself,” Reggie admitted, tugging again at Mayo’s leash. “The avenue is so busy these days.” He glanced at his wife. “We can go to a restaurant on top of the hill. But we won’t jaywalk. Heh heh.”
    Alicia, however, seemed disappointed. “Oh, not after all we’ve been through.” She suddenly brightened. “I know! I’ll whip up one of my favorite soufflés. Would you enjoy that, Judith?”
    “Well . . . sure. That sounds fine. Would you like to take your luggage upstairs? You’re in Room Three.”
    “Will do,” Reggie volunteered, pulling on Mayo’s leash. “Ta-ta.”
    Judith was trying to figure out a tactful way to deal with the dog’s presence. “Did Martha—or Norma—mention that I have a cat?”
    Alicia removed her jacket and handed it to Judith. “A cat? No, I don’t think so.” She frowned. “Is your cat well disciplined? Mayo is afraid of cats. Wolfhounds are very sensitive.”
    “Cats in general are difficult to discipline. Sweetums spends much of his time with my mother in the . . . her apartment. Usually, there’s no problem, because I don’t allow pets at the B&B.”
    Alicia looked shocked. “You don’t? How . . . well, I shouldn’t say ‘inhospitable,’ but it strikes me as arbitrary. Mayo is like family.”
    “It’s not a lack of hospitality,” Judith declared. “It’s a courtesy to guests who have allergies to animals. It also safeguards against the kind of damage that untrained pets can incur.” A vision of the savaged lace curtains in Room Five flashed through her mind’s eye. “What,” she continued, changing the subject, “shall I do with your jacket?”
    “Oh.” The query seemed to stump Alicia. “I suppose you could put it in your coat closet down here for now.”
    “We don’t have one,” Judith said. “The original coat closet was replaced by the powder room when I converted the house into a B&B.”
    “How very odd,” Alicia murmured. “Never mind. I should start making my soufflé. Where’s the kitchen?”
    Judith placed the jacket on the hat rack before leading the way through the dining room into the kitchen. “What do you need?” she asked while Alicia studied the high ceiling, the appliances, and the schoolhouse clock.
    “So delectably old-fashioned!” Alicia seemed transfixed by the almost imperceptible movement of the minute hand. “Tick-tock, tick-tock . . . oh! Ingredients. Five eggs, flour, milk, butter, salt, cayenne pepper, two kinds of cheese,